


A waste of time

by KimberlyAlexis



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: CAN I GET like maybe 14 kudos for this mess? LET US HOPE, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, I hope someone gets something out of this though. XD, Let me be clear...theres some good parts, M/M, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Post-Season/Series 04, Post-The Final Problem, TD12, and i have to move on to other things and just post this story and move on, but also wont be shocked if no one reads it, but it needs an edit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 01:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11521671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimberlyAlexis/pseuds/KimberlyAlexis
Summary: Sherlock has come home after being drugged and they talk because....hey I like when they talk.





	A waste of time

John was stood at the sink cleaning Sherlock's mugs as Mrs. Hudson was away and he knew Sherlock would never get to them. Sherlock was out catching a criminal and, okay, perhaps John also stayed because he wanted to make sure Sherlock made it home. The door to 221B is flung opened and closed and seconds later Sherlock walks into the kitchen.

 

“Sherlock, wha--”

 

“Mmm. John. John’s here.” Sherlock says sleepily...happily?

 

He says it after he wraps himself around John’s back, arms latched all around. He buries his face in John’s neck and takes a whiff. 

 

John himself sniffed the mint of toothpaste, and what smelled like the faint hint of covered up scotch. But no cigarettes. He hated himself for that small victory, but he smiles. He smiles and then remembers what was happening right now. Sherlock was wrapped around him. Sherlock, his friend, whom despite everything everyone had said he’d never shagged and never thought about shagging. Sherlock was….kissing his neck.

 

“God John. I love your neck. I love every part of you.”

 

“I--uh. Sherlock how much did you have to drink tonight?”

 

“No, no don’t be boring. I’m in complete control of my faculties. I’ll have you know I caught the criminal in the act and then perhaps realising how young SHE , not he, was...there’s always something. Well I took her out for a drink or she took me and we got to talking and….she promises to not do it anymore. So we bid adieu and I found my way home all by myself….well the cabbie did the driving, but I corrected him when he tried to take the longer fare way.”

 

“Right. Good. So how much did you have to drink tonight?”

 

“A bit much.”

 

Sherlock didn’t move though. John didn’t either. His heart was beating fast and in this moment he didn’t have time to think about his actions or the past or the future he just fucking knew he wanted this. 

 

John turns around and takes Sherlock’s head in his hands. He looks at him in the eyes and Sherlock looks back at him. The moment was brief, but heavy with import. 

 

Sherlock speaks first because of course he does. 

 

“I--I’m sorry,” he says.

  
  


There seems to be warring looks fighting for John’s face. He is confused, frustrated, tired, and more. He shakes his head.

 

“What the fuck for, Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock moves his hands slowly, takes John’s hands off his face. He holds them in his hands and John doesn’t make a move.

 

“Because….I am in love with you, John.  And I can’t be silent about it. I normally am. But I--” Sherlock stops and turns away from John. Shakes his head a bit. His mind appears to be whriring, but John refuses to say anything. He waits. “I know it won’t ever work. You’re you and I’m me but--”

 

Fuck it, John thinks. Fuck all of this. He kisses Sherlock. He surges forward and kisses him. He moves his hands from Sherlock’s hand to the back of Sherlock’s head and the other to his waist and he holds him firm. 

 

_ What the fuck are you doing? _

 

_ You’re not. Am I? How long have I? _

 

_ What would Mary? Jesus. Mary? _

 

_ Is this okay? Fuck is this okay? _

 

He pulls back and sees Sherlock’s eyes are closed. Sherlock has never looked more bloody beautiful to him and he admits Sherlock has looked beautiful to him plenty of times. He starts walking them back to Sherlock’s bedroom. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with Sherlock in there, but he has to get them to a bed. 

 

They stumble back into Sherlock’s bed with Sherlock landing back first, and John following atop him. They’re kissing as their hands explore touching the other for the first time in years. The sounds Sherlock makes are impossibly hot. John is also impossibly hard. He thrusts forward meeting the friction on Sherlock’s leg. Sherlock moans as John feels Sherlock response with his own thrusts.

 

“Fuck,” John says. And Sherlock stills. It all crashes to halt. John pulls back. Sherlock looks at him with fear on his face. “Sherlock? You okay, Sherlock?”

 

“She drugged me. I--damn. Of course she did.”

 

“Oh. Then we--”

 

“I want to, but you would--”

 

“Right. Right,” John says. He rolls off Sherlock, lays on his back and looks up at the ceiling. Tries to gather his thoughts, but keeps running through exactly what he should be saying now. He’s just not...good at this. 

 

“I’m not sure I’ll even remember this in the morning,” Sherlock says. He voice is filled with woe, regret.

 

John turns to look at him. “What? Why? How?” He knew his voice sound worried, frustrated. Couldn’t and wouldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

 

“TD-12,” Sherlock says. “It’s made it into a few street drugs as of late.”

 

“Why do you suspect it was in what she gave you?”

 

Sherlock shakes his head “It’s just a possibility. I’m having trouble connecting things right now, controlling actions. The symptoms match what I know of the drug.”

 

“I see.” John doesn’t know what to think of this. It’s not what he wants.

 

“Perhaps it’s for the best.”

 

“Ahh,” John says. 

 

The silence starts and begins to stretch on. Neither says anything. John tries his best to find a way to speak, but can think of nothing to say. If  Sherlock wants this to be whatever the fuck it was….something to forget then maybe it is for the best. And John can’t begin to think of what this means on a few levels. He’s attracted to Sherlock. He knows that. He’s known it for a while. He has issues with who he is. He supposes bisexual is the right term for it, but he really isn’t looking at blokes and thinking they’re someone he wants to get into bed. But he’s had a few he’s….well…thought about. Sherlock being the chief among them. And about what just happened. This...whatever it is...has been brewing for a while. It must’ve done. And does that mean the entire time he was with Mary that he was just waiting, wanting this? And is that an insult to her memory? Hell even more so than what happened with Eurus and that’s a whole other level of fucked up that he doesn’t even want to think about. 

 

“Sherlock, um…”

 

“Should we perhaps talk about this in the morning? See if I’ll even remember this all. We could have an entire crisis conversation only to find that I can’t remember a thing. It’ll be forever forgotten.”  

 

He then snuggles closer to John, takes a deep whiff and John can’t help but smile at that. It’s such a couple thing to do. To enjoy the smell of the other. He did it with Mary and, John realises, as he takes his responding inhale (just like earlier) something he does with Sherlock too. 

 

“I’ll probably forget,” Sherlock says again.

 

“I don’t want you to forget,” John says and knows this to be true. He really doesn’t. 

 

He wants to talk to Sherlock about this. He wants to figure it out himself. He wants to fuckin just figure out why he thinks about Sherlock consistently, outside of Rosie it’s pretty much Sherlock on repeat. He wants to figure out if this is something they both would want. He wants to know why kissing Sherlock is something that feels like a fucking drug he can’t get enough of. He wants to know when this all began for Sherlock.

 

“Me either,” Sherlock says. A sly smile comes on his face. But a worried look soon replaces the smile. “May I ask you a question?”

 

“Sure, Yeah.”

 

“Why...why has this never happened before? We obviously….” His words peter out, but John understands.

 

“Ahh,” John says. He turns away, looks away. “I--I don’t know. It was...for me it was one of those things you don’t let your mind spend too much time thinking about.”

 

“Like death.”

 

John huffs out a laugh. “No like...I don’t know. If we’re being completely honest and I think we are--”

 

“I can commit to at least 78%.”

 

John smiles. “Okay if we’re being 78% honest then,” he shakes his head. “I just….I don’t know. When did you um...I mean...you said you loved me. Was that um...and you don’t have to if you don’t want...was that uh--”

 

“True?” Sherlock fills in the blank. “Yes, it is. I thought you would have noticed before I did.”

 

“When did you...ya know start all that?”

 

“I---think. Well. As you know I don’t have many friends or associates. Most people immediately bore me and so...”

 

“It took a while?”

 

“No,” Sherlock says matter of factly. “I think from the moment we met. Possibly a few days after.”

 

“What?!”

 

“You?”

 

“No. Wait. Sherlock. Since the start?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Why the hell didn’t you bloody say something?”

 

“You said not gay. You said it a lot. You were….too good for me. Even if you were...”

 

“Sherlock…” John sits up. He looks down at Sherlock and tilts his head. Sherlock says nothing and John can’t help but want to kiss him. He moves forward to touch lip to lip. It’s sweet and dry and lingers until John pulls away. His bottom lip slightly catches on Sherlock’s. His eyes focus on Sherlock’s tongue as it darts out to taste at the exact spot. 

 

Sherlock is quiet and keeps his eyes focused on John. He waits. John knows there should be something else added to his one word sentence of Sherlock’s name, but he can’t quite find the words and hopes the action was enough to say. Sherlock’s eyebrows furrow and John knows it wasn’t.

 

“You’re,” John says. “You’re a genius. Your family is full of geniuses. Yes, some incredibly mad, but still geniuses. You’re tall. You’re handsome. You got the...cheekbones and the neck and the….nice body and from what I felt you’re not lacking there. How….how could possibly not know it’s the other way around?”

 

“You’re a war hero, a doctor.  You are not lacking  and in fact are quite well endowed. You’re charming. You’re a wonderful father. You’re smart. You’ve got a quite popular blog and you’re….” Sherlock closes his mouth, as if he can’t think of anything else to say.

 

“I’m what, Sherlock?” John says in a whisper

 

“You’re you,” Sherlock says. John smiles. “So. When for you?”

 

“I don’t know. I was sort of figuring things out...right around when you...uh.”

 

“Right,” Sherlock says. “So if I hadn’t left then…..” The look on his face is one of incredible loss. 

 

“Maybe,” John says. “But we wouldn’t have Rosie then. Maybe this was just….this was the way it was supposed to work out.”

 

“If it works. Remember. I may forget.”

 

“Don’t. Please don’t.” John leans down. He touches their foreheads together then backs up. He looks at Sherlock with a pleading look.

 

“I’ll try my best,” Sherlock says. He reaches out a hand and brushes back John’s hair.  John leans into the touch. He feels his entire body alit. Feels like he’s goose pimpling all over. Feels like he’s both been dipped in a warm water and stepped into a cool pool at the same time. He wants to touch Sherlock. He wants to rove his hands all over. So he indulges. Bringing his lips to meet Sherlock’s again.  His hands go to Sherlock’s waist and inches up Sherlock’s shirt until there’s skin showing and he isn’t even sure why but he lowers himself until his mouth is level with sherlock’s stomach and he places a kiss there. Can’t think of anything he’d rather do right now as compared to this. Sherlock gasps when John does this. He gasps and says John’s name around a whisper. 

 

“John.” He repeats it again so John does it again. His moves himself back up and kisses Sherlock again. His hand somehow finding itself on Sherlock’s zipper. He doesn’t stop. He allows himself to have what feels good to happen.  And part of what feels good right now is making Sherlock feel good. But then he pulls back, stops himself, falls off Sherlock entirely. Takes a breath. 

 

“John?” Sherlock asks, but doesn’t move. 

 

“You’ve been drugged,” John says. “We-we don’t even know if you truly wa-…”

 

“Ahhh. Consent and the like.”

 

“And the like.”

 

“You should head to pick up Rosie then.”

 

“Yeah,” John says. He feels bereft, a loss, an ache. Like what they had is over already and it will never be found again.  He reaches out a hand for Sherlock’s. Sherlock takes it silently. “I think love is um, yeah, I think yeah.” He says knowing it sounds moronic, but Sherlock squeezes his hand and so he assumes he knows what he meant.

 

“Will we ever figure it out?”

 

John huffs out a laugh. It sounds strained and he knows it. “Maybe it’s not...I don’t know. Maybe we don’t.”

 

Sherlock is silent. John turns to see the look on his face--acceptance, sadness, and something else.

 

“I can stay,” John says.

 

“Please,” Sherlock says.

 

There is a moment of silent agreement in which Sherlock stands and undresses into pyjamas. John pulls off almost he has on and is left in a shirt and boxers. He sends a long text explaining to Mike and his Mrs that it’s turned into an overnight thing and hopes Rosie can stay over. Mike shoots him back a text and a photo of a sleeping Rosie Letting John know it’s probably for the best as she’d been up all day and definitely will sleep through the night. John smiles and the photo then lifts his phone to show Sherlock. He reaches for the phone, smiling as he takes in the full site of Rosie. He even expands the photo to see her more close up.

 

“She’s wonderful as ever,” Sherlock says. 

 

“Yeah she is,” John says, taking the phone out of Sherlock’s hand and smiling once more at the photo before placing the phone on a bedside table. He then takes his hand and scrubs it over his face, turns to Sherlock who is now on his side looking at John. His eyes searching. 

 

“You have questions,” Sherlock says.

 

“No...yes. Well..yes. But I suppose you do as well and I don’t have much by way of answers. Um basically…. we’re two middle-aged men who just admitted to loving the other, this was after us snogging and a bit of dry humping. And one of us is drugged and possibly going to forget all of this in the morning and the other is trying to figure out just what to do about that. That’s what I got. Sound about right?”

 

Sherlock considers. “That about sums it up.”

 

“Is there any way to reverse the TD12?”

 

Sherlock shakes his head. 

 

“Ahh,” John says. “So it’ll be up to me to try to convince you that you’re in love with me in the morning.”

 

“It’ll be up to you to decide if you want me to know how you feel.  I’ll always be in love with you. No convincing needed.”

 

John’s face does a thing. He knows it’s doing a thing and he can’t stop it. It’s showing worry and sadness. Sherlock said he’ll always be in love with him. Earlier he said it was since the beginning. So through every woman, through everything he was always in love with him. Even as he planned his wedding to Mary. And John feels the sting of feeling he betrayed her again, but he also knows that even she knew that he and Sherlock were…..this. This and more.

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

Sherlock rolls his eyes, lazy. He yawns. “So you’ve said.”

 

“All this time.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Let’s go to bed. I’m tired. And in the morning we’ll not waste more of it.”


End file.
